We pull up to the curb in front of my apartment, and the place looks just like it did the last time I saw it, but so much has changed.

Hunter gives me a long look before he turns off the car, then walks over and opens the door for me. I step out and try to breathe through the heavy weight on my chest that’s slowly been making itself felt since we turned the corner onto my street. I don’t know what to say, and Hunter must not either, because he pops the trunk, pulls out the duffel, and then awkwardly hands it to me.

I can’t tell him that these clothes have too many memories attached to them and I don’t want them. I also don’t have the heart to give those memories away, so I take the bag from him and set it at my feet.

“If you—”

“I wanted to—”

We both start talking at the same time.

“You first,” he says after letting out a long sigh.

“I said it back at the diner, but really…I cannot thank you enough for everything you did for me. Putting your life on the line, putting your life on hold for me, and opening up your home to me…there are no words, so I have to settle for thank you.”

With a breathtaking smile, he says, “You’re welcome.” He reaches up and plays with a strand of my hair. “I’d do it again in a second.”

That kind of sets the butterflies in my stomach out in full force.

“In my experience, things get hard once you get home after something like this. If you need someone to talk to, if you have a bad dream, or…whatever. Please call me.” Hunter slips a card into my hand, his personal cell number scrawled across the back in his messy handwriting. I stare at it for a moment, so glad that he’s given this to me and still wishing he hadn’t. I won’t be able to throw it away, and I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself from using it at some point now that I have it.

I swallow past the lump in my throat and nod, then ignore my better judgment and surge up on my tiptoes and wrap my arms around him, burying my face in his neck.

He does the same, and we hold on tight for who knows how long. I feel safer in his arms than I’ve ever felt anywhere else, and the smell of his skin comforts me like nothing else ever has. My head is swimming, and the very last thing in the world I want to do is let go.

This—I know from experience—is where my judgment starts to get cloudy and where I start ignoring warning sighs. Hunter isn’t Carson. I know that.

He isn’t going to steal my rent for drug money, he isn’t going to pawn my GPS to get high.

He isn’t Carson.

I know that.

But still…when he lets go, I can’t make myself ask him to stay.

* * *

“Oh my god,” Alexa says as she launches herself off the bottom step of the stairway that leads to the front door of my apartment building. She moves at lightning speed and puts her arms around me so tightly that it’s difficult for me to breathe. I try to hold her back, but I can barely move. “Are you hurt? Are you okay?” She lets me go and steps back, appraising me for injuries. “Are you hurt?”

I smile at her. “I’m okay,” I reply softly, gently gripping her forearms to ground her a bit.

“I’ve been so worried about you,” she says, bringing me in for another hug before she takes my hands in hers. “I’m so sorry I nagged you to go out. I should’ve never pressured you, and your life is your life. Whatever you need to do, whatever you want to do, just do it, don’t listen to me. If you want to lie in bed all day, watch Netflix, and never have sex again, I will fully support you. I’ll even bring you snacks.”

“I appreciate that,” I reply with a laugh, although I can’t help the heat that creeps up into my cheeks because Hunter is right there overhearing all this.

This Alexa is a far cry from the collected person I talked to on the phone yesterday, who was teasing me about my hot bodyguard. She was probably worried sick when I spoke to her but kept herself calm for me so I wouldn’t freak out.

I look over at Hunter, who’s grinning at us with a soft look in his eyes.

“Who are you?” Alexa asks, narrowing her eyes at him. I know my best friend, and she’s going to be like an attack dog toward any unfamiliar males for the foreseeable future.

Hunter is unfazed. He steps forward and reaches out his hand. “My name is Hunter, I’m—”

Alexa launches herself into his arms, and from the looks of it she squeezes him even tighter than she squeezed me.

Hunter gives me this cute, helpless look over Alexa’s shoulder as he pats her back. I can’t help but smile, because the whole situation is adorable. Alexa is enthusiastic and fun, a fierce, loyal person who wants the best for her friends and counts anyone who is kind to those friends as part of her circle.

“Thank you for taking care of my girl,” she tells him. “I always want her safe, so thank you for keeping her that way. And thank you for keeping me safe, too, since I know you’re the one who sent Jesse.”

Hunter’s helplessness relaxes into a kind smile as he wraps his arm around Alexa, giving her a hug before he sets her down.

“You’re very welcome,” he replies. “How was Jesse?”

“Are you asking as his boss? Is this a performance review?” she teases.

“An informal one, sure. I like to make sure my people are worth keeping around,” he teases back.

“He got me out of that club, which seems like it’d be the most important part. He brought me home, even cooked for me a few times. Wouldn’t let me out of his sight until this morning.”

Pride lights up Hunter’s handsome face. “Good to know.”

“You should give him a raise,” Alexa says. “I think he’s a keeper.” She smiles in a way that lets me know there’s more to this story and makes me wonder if I’m not the only one who’s going to have a difficult time leaving this weekend behind me.

“Noted,” Hunter replies.

“I ordered pizza,” Alexa says. “I brought wine, too. We’re gonna watch movies all night long and get a little drunk since we don’t have to work tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I tell her with a smile.

“I’m gonna get going,” Hunter says.

The smile falls from my face, because I don’t want him to leave yet. I’m just not sure what else I can say. Inviting him inside seems like a bad idea… If I don’t want to say goodbye now, doing it after spending hours with him in my apartment will be ten times worse. Probably impossible.

Alexa looks between me and Hunter, and she’s standing close enough that I can hear the quiet “oh” when she says it.

“I’m just gonna go inside,” she says, hooking her thumbs in the direction of the door.

“Okay,” I reply. She grins and then walks away.

Hunter watches her go, and when the front door closes, he says, “I’m glad you have a friend like her.”

I haven’t known Hunter long, but something about the sentiment touches me in a way that’s unexpected.

“She’s the best kind of friend to have. I hope you have one like her, too.” After seeing how stressful his job must be and how much he looks out for other people, I want him to have someone he can decompress with.

Hunter starts to say something but catches himself. He moves a couple steps closer to me instead, so close I have to tilt my head to see him.

“Hayley,” he whispers, his eyes full of something that makes him even more gorgeous than usual, which is a feat. He takes my hands in his, and I let out a soft sigh at the feel of his warm skin against mine. “I’m sorry for the circumstances under which it happened, but I’m so glad I met you. Spending time with you was…a pleasure.” He slides the pad of his thumb across my knuckles as he says it, sending an electric shiver up my spine that fizzles out into my fingertips.

I want to push up on the tips of my toes and kiss him, just one more time. Grab on to his shirt and pull him close and not let go until I’m ready.

But I don’t do any of that.

“Goodbye, Hayley,” he says, bringing the back of my right hand to his lips.

I’m completely transfixed by him, unable to move, until a car horn blares somewhere down the street and makes me snap out of it.

“Bye,” I whisper.

I step away from him, grab the duffel, and turn to go inside. I don’t look back, but I feel Hunter’s gaze on me as I walk away.

When I open my apartment door, Alexa’s standing at the window. Watching Hunter drive away, I’m guessing.

“Want me to tell you which street he turned down? It might give us a clue about—”

“I don’t want to know,” I tell her. If I start thinking about where he lives, then I’ll do something with the phone number that’s burning a hole in my pocket.

She nods, facing me after she tucks the curtain back into place. “How are you really?”

I drop the bag on the floor and shrug. “I don’t know.”

“Is it about what happened at the club?”

“No,” I tell her right away. “I don’t know. I think I’m okay? I’m not scared to be here, even though I thought I would be. I feel…fine.”

“That’s good,” Alexa assures me with a smile.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry that you got dragged into this. If you’d gotten hurt, I—”

“Hey, hey,” she says soothingly as she walks over and hugs me. “I’m fine. I got an excuse to spend the weekend at home with a hot guy—total ten—cooking me breakfast. No one got hurt, and you’re here safe. What more could I ask for?”

“Carson’s in rehab,” I tell her. She hates his guts, but I tell her anyway.

“Jesse told me. I…might’ve ranted about Carson a little.”

I laugh. Alexa’s little is a lot.

“Do you want to talk about what I saw down there?”

I take a deep breath. I could tell that there was more to her time with Jesse than she let on, of course she’d catch on to this. I shake my head. I don’t even want to think about what she saw down there. It’s a lot, it feels…important, and I’m scared to get her take on things. Because she’d encourage me to go for it, or to leave it alone? I have no idea.

“Okay,” she murmurs. “How ’bout I pick the wine, and you pick the movie?”

Sounds like a plan to me.

* * *

I lie awake the first night I’m home, mostly because Alexa and I stay up really late. Wine tends to keep me up all night, and I drank a lot of it. Plus, there’s a part of me that’s scared that if I go to sleep I’ll have another nightmare, and there isn’t anyone next to me who’ll be able to pull me out of it.

Alexa is sleeping on my couch—she insisted—and it’s nicer than being here alone. Even though I lie in bed willing it to come, sleep is elusive.

It’s better when I get back into my routine. I take the Metro to work like I always do, and my coworkers are gathered around talking about the draft party for this year’s fantasy football league. They ask me how my holiday was, and I spin a tale about taking a trip to the beach with some college friends who were in town.

No one suspects that this weekend my whole world was turned upside down.

Alexa keeps tabs on me from a respectable distance, doing her best to make sure I’m not alone if I don’t want to be. She invites me out to dinner every night, and I go, but on the fourth night I tell her that she doesn’t have to worry about me. That I think the sooner life goes back to normal, the better off I’ll be. She seems skeptical, but agrees.

My nights are mainly nightmare-free, even though I’m still not sleeping well. I have a lot on my mind. The first major challenge I have is when a car backfires outside my window, and I wake up in a cold sweat, my heart pounding its way through my ribcage. I think about calling Hunter as I sit on the edge of my bed, counting my breaths, trying to calm down. I’ve been through a lot. Even though everything turned out okay, it would be nice to have someone tell me that I’m not being ridiculous when my pulse picks up if someone in a crowd looks at me too long, or when the rush-hour crowds on the train make me feel uneasy because I don’t have an escape route to get out of there if I need to.

I know I can tell Alexa, but I don’t want her to feel like she has to babysit me. I just want some reassurance, and I know Hunter could give that to me.

I start getting off the Metro a few stops before my usual one on my way home from work, exploring the city I haven’t taken the time to get to know since I moved here. My bed doesn’t hold the same allure that it used to, and I can’t find anything I’m interested in watching on Netflix. I go out for walks in the evening, passing through the small boutiques nearby. I stay on busy roads and near crowds. I’m doing all right.

It isn’t until I walk down the street that the club is on that I let myself think about the night we first met, how much I loved the smell of his jacket, the warmth of his body by my side. I’m tired of pretending like there wasn’t something there between us, like I’m not desperate to have it again.

Truth is, I’m lonely.

If I’m honest with myself, I have been for a long time. I crave companionship, someone to hold me when I lie in bed at night, someone to listen to me when I need to vent. That’s not something that I can find with a one-night stand. I’d been foolish trying to convince myself that I don’t want or need it. Alexa teased me about my produce-section fantasy man, but I think maybe he’s a reality.

And I have his phone number at home in my bedroom.

That night, when I’m home, I slide the duffel bag across the room from the corner I’d stashed it in and plop on the edge of my bed.

I unzip it, hoping that maybe the clothes still smell like him. Pathetic, I know.

The first thing I see is Hunter’s leather jacket, folded-up neatly on top of the stack. It’s the one he put over my shoulders that Friday night that seems so long ago. I slide it on and press my nose into the collar, breathing in deep.

Exhausted and warm, I crawl up and collapse on top of my pillows, exhaustion finally pulling me under into a deep, deep sleep.

* * *

I wake up to the soft scratch of fingernails soothingly sliding across my scalp. For a second, I think I might be stuck in a dream, but my dreams have never quite managed to capture the smell of freshly brewed coffee. No, this is happening, and I am awake, and someone is making coffee in my apartment.

My eyes open to Alexa sitting on the edge of my bed, giving me a fond smile as she brushes my hair away from my face. Sunlight is streaming through my windows, and I can tell by the light in my room that I’ve slept much later than I usually do.

I’m so groggy and confused that I can’t think of anything to say to her other than… “What?”

“We were supposed to have our normal Friday dinner last night,” she says, her voice calm and low. “You said you wanted to go back to normal, and that was our normal. When I didn’t hear from you, I got worried, and you weren’t answering your phone. I got in late last night, but you were dead to the world, and I didn’t have the heart to wake you up. I know you haven’t been sleeping very well.”

I rub my eyes, pushing the sleep away. “I’m sorry I scared you,” I tell her. “I completely forgot.”

“I figured,” she replies with a soft laugh. With a weak tug at the collar of Hunter’s jacket—which I’m still wearing—she asks, “Wanna talk about this?”

I look at her for a long while, at odds with myself. “I miss him,” I admit. “Isn’t that weird? I knew him for a grand total of two days, but…it felt like he was supposed to be a part of my life.” I shake my head at myself, because I know this sounds totally nuts. “I always get so worried about getting wrapped up in another guy like I got wrapped up in Carson. I don’t trust how I feel, I worry about ignoring warning signs because everything feels so good. That smitten stupidity. But it’s not going away now, and…” I shrug. “I just miss him.”

Alexa grins, her eyes bright. “It’s not nuts,” she replies. “It happens. You felt a connection with the guy, and if it’s not going away maybe that’s fate trying to tell you something.”

Playfully, I roll my eyes. “You know I don’t believe in fate.”

She purses her lips together, looking a little exasperated with me. It’s good natured, though. “Fine,” she says with a dramatic wave. “It’s your heart, your mind, your whatever trying to tell you something. If it was just hormones or smitten stupidity, it would’ve passed in the past couple weeks.”

She’s right, I know she’s right. “So what do I do?”

Alexa takes a deep breath. “You’re going to have to decide if taking a chance on him is worth it. You don’t have to get married tomorrow.” She laughs when I tense up. “But you can get to know him, go on some dates. Take it slow. If it’s not right, then you move on, but at least you’ll know instead of always wondering.”

I don’t want to live with that regret. “He would’ve taken a bullet for me,” I tell her. “There isn’t any part of me that thinks he could possibly be a bad guy.”

“Then I think you have your answer.”